hitchhikers' guide to mozambique

Search no more. I believe I have found the most beautiful corner of sub-saharan Africa. Mozambique lays on the eastern side of southern Africa, forming a long stretch of coastline on the Indian Ocean. Not only is the country itself magnificently beautiful, but the people exude beauty from their language to their welcoming manner. Mozambique was colonized by Portugal, causing Portugese to be the official language. Yet the dialect spoken is ‘africa-fied’ in such a way that could only create a perfect mix of Bantu and Romantic tongues.

In an effort to cut back on the number of absolute travel nightmares while roaming in Africa (although they never cease to make the best stories after the fact), my friends and I decided to fly first to Johannesberg in South Africa and continue on from there to Mozambique by bus. At this point in my Peace Corps service, I have no qualms with experiencing a bit of westernized culture for the sake of my sanity. South Africa never fails to be somewhat of an oasis for the Peace Corps Africa volunteer community. McDonalds, malls, customer service, 4-lane highways, sandwiches, diversity, and did I mention McDonalds?? Maybe I should find it a bit shameful to admit that 75% of the time we had in Johannesberg was spent at the local shopping mall. But just to have so many options and people who are willing to help you make decisions; to have efficiency, to be perfectly honest… it made me ridiculously happy.

After spending one night in the big city of Joberg, we hopped on a 6-hour bus headed for Nelspruit (near the border of South Africa and Mozambique). I believe I’ve mentioned this multiple times already on this blog, but you learn to fly by the seat of your pants when you live in Africa. When you make plans you only set yourself up for disappointment; whereas when you let go of any expectations and just let the cards fall as they may, you are bound to be pleasantly surprised. Although this philosophy conforms nicely to my lifestyle in Zambia, I realize it will need to be adjusted upon my return to Americaland. Having some sort of game plan seems to work out much better that side of the Atlantic.

Upon our arrival in Nelspruit, we made our way to the mini-bus station in hopes of getting on a last-minute bus going to Maputo, the capital of Mozambique. Living in a peaceful country such as Zambia has increased our naivite when it comes to traveling in Africa. As we were walking to the bus station, multiple people pulled their cars over to concernedly inform us that we should not be walking around this town as foreigners; that is was actually incredibly unsafe. Stuck with only the possessions on our back, no car, and no clue when it came to our orientation in Nelspruit, we justified our will to get to the bus station by the false security of power in numbers. I can honestly say that it was not the best situation to be in and we should consider ourselves fortunate that everything ended up working out sans any sort of confrontation. We got on a cramped mini-bus to the border and proceeded to Maputo knees against the seats in front of us, necks cocked to the side, heads pressed against the roof. All we wanted and needed to do upon arrival at the backpackers in Mozambique was shower. There was no water. We camped on the roof of the kitchen and due to pure exhaustion were able to fall asleep despite the stagnant humid heat that would come to be a common theme for us on Mozambiquean nights. We woke up the next morning dirty and stinky, but with beach on the mind and the determination to get to our next destination.

We were told by staff at the backpackers that due to the nightmare that is transport in Mozambique, we should abandon dreams of making it to Vilancoulos (our northernmost destination), and instead stop in Xhai-Xhai first, then head onto Tofo. Of course when you don’t own a vehicle in Africa, public transport becomes the only option more often than not. But we were just one hellish, hot-box, cramped mini-bus (termed chapas in Mozambique) ride away from surf and sand in Xhai-Xhai. We were like children when we finally arrived at the beach, running to the water through the sand with the energy, it seemed, to swim all the way to India. Someone from above smiled down on us when we scored our own beach house for what amounted to about 10 US dollars per person per night, complete with air conditioning, kitchen, grill, shower, and our own private stretch of beach. Needless to say, we extended our stay in Xhai-Xhai by a few days and found it hard to tear ourselves away from that paradise and brave another round of transport to Tofo. We cooked lobster for Christmas, along with prawns and even shark on other nights. We bought the shark while walking along the beach, intentionally in denial of the fact that the very location where we were swimming was obviously where it had come from… A couple of Mozambiquean teenage boys offered to skin the shark for us, and I can safely put that meal on my ‘top ten most delicious meals ever’ list. 

Most vacations I have gone on in the past two years have not been ones that have championed rest and relaxation. From sandboarding in Namibia to snorkeling in Zanzibar, I have tried to take advantage of the all the adventures that sub-saharan Africa has to offer. Mozambique was beautifully different. You couldn’t help but just chill out and soak in the beauty all around you. I went on long walks on the beach, swam in the crazy ocean surf, read my book in the sand, and most nights my friends and I stayed up late into the night, looking up at the stars and out at the endless abyss of the ocean, having conversations you can only ever really have over a campfire; on the beach; in the middle of nowhere.

Reluctantly remembering we are 25 years old and have a duty to get crazy on New Years Eve, we said goodbye to our perfect little haven in Xhai-Xhai and hitch-hiked to Tofo. If Xhai-Xhai is the epitomy of r&r, Tofo is party central, serving as a popular New Years Eve destination for both Mozambiqueans and South Africans. We found ourselves in a tent city in the sand at a backpackers on the beach. It felt a bit like Woodstock Tofo-style. I say this with the realization that I am making a gross generalization…but stereotypes exist for a reason…and white South Africans are small-doses people for me. I actually can’t really stand them. They remind me of the epitomy of racist, southern, conservative ignorance, and they were inescapable in Tofo. I won’t go off on a tangent, but I will say that I fear for the future of South Africa whenever I meet white South Africans in my travels. Again, I know I am generalizing here, but if I never meet another Afrikaner…I’m ok with it. However, I did witness something on the beach in Tofo that gave me hope for humanity. There were two Mozambiquean boys, probably about 8-10 years old, making jewelery on the beach to sell to tourists. I was resting in the shade about 10 yards from where they were working. There was a white South African boy of about the same age sitting with them. He was learning how to make the jewelery, and would run off with one of the boys to the beach whenever they saw potential buyers. I overheard one of the Mozambiquean boys give a bracelet as a gift to the South African boy. For the next two days these three boys were inseparable, playing together around the beach and in town. Racial differences seemed not to exist, and economic, social, and cultural lines were blurred. In a place where one is constantly reminded of their skin color, I found hope for the future of Africa in these children; blame it on the part of me that, through all my frustrations, still knows a solution exists in this crazy world when it comes to hate and discrimination.

New Years Eve Day some of us decided to snorkel with whale sharks. They are the largest fish in the sea; incredibly graceful, beautiful creatures. And we were able to swim right alongside one of them! Of course I had to talk myself out of a freak-out the entire two hours…oceans and sharks are two of my biggest fears. Sharks are actually way out of my league…I’m afraid even of fish. But I can now add it to my list of things that were fun to do exactly ONCE.  There was a live reggae band performing on the beach as a full blue moon rose over the ocean on New Years Eve. I’ll never forget what it felt like to welcome a new decade (and the year I get to come home!) in such a beautiful setting. I’m a lucky girl.

Transport from Tofo back to Johannesberg was anticlimactic, just the way I like it. We had one more day at the mall there, and I flew out of that magical airport knowing that the next time I will be there will be en route to Americaland! As I’ve said before, the familiarity of returning to Zambia always makes me feel as if I’m returning home. But I can’t deny that I’m excited for the day when my home makes sense to me.

Speaking of which, it looks like I’ll complete my Peace Corps service at the end of April. The new country director in Zambia seems to be blanketly denying all applications for an early close-of-service. I applied to leave one month early due to finishing work early in the village. Oh well, what’s one more month when I’ll have been here for 25 already? I’ll see all the people I came to Zambia with next week at our close-of-service conference in Lusaka, where we should receive our final ring-out dates so we can book our flights home. And when I say ‘ring out’ I mean it literally. Before we leave the Peace Corps office in Lusaka for the last time, we hit a metal tire rim with a stick, symbolizing the official end of our service. This is of course accompanied by nostalgiac and uplifting speeches, hugs, and sometimes tears. I promise to shout it on the mountaintops once I know the date I get to partake in this ritual.

I hope everyone enjoyed a warm and cozy holiday season, wherever you may have celebrated. I heard there was a lot of snow, and still is! Take care, and much love from Zambia.

~Happy 2010~

.peace.

katie

and may all your christmases be white

Happy Holidays! I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…but waking up to rain and mosquitoes…and white sand beaches I guess? I’ll be celebrating the birth of Jesus in Mozambique this year. Home is where I really want to be, with snow and decorative pine trees. But I can’t complain. I’ll be traveling with 6 friends to the beautiful Mozambiquan coast of the Indian Ocean. Mozambique was colonized by the Portugese, and we are all looking forward to delicious food and lovely architecture. There is supposed to be a full blue moon on New Years Eve, which promises to be unforgettable in and of itself. We’ve decided to fly by the seat of our pants even more-so on this vacation than others. As it turns out, booking anything ahead of time in Mozambique is next to impossible and actually an incredibly shady process. It fits nicely with the whole ‘lack of forward thought’ theme of my life in Africa. We are planning to show up with tents and just kick it on the beach. I only pray that I’ll remember the reasoning behind these laid-back plans when they begin to play out…

Myself and 5 other Peace Corps volunteers living in Mpika district put on Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) last week. I would like to begin with a few overarching themes (or maybe more appropriately, lessons learned) for the week: 1) Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. (Why does this continue to surprise me?)

Actually, I think that one theme suffices. Pretty much the entire week was in reaction to this theme. What can you do when you are fully aware of the prevalence of Murphy’s law in your life?

Just a few examples:

**Absolutely nothing was prepared when we arrived at the recreation center. There weren’t enough mattresses, sheets, blankets, and absolutely no sense of organization on the part of the manager of the place we were paying to rent.The center was ‘creepy guy’ central. Men with nothing better to do were just hanging around the recreation center we rented out the whole week. On that note, apparently renting out a center only means renting out two rooms. Everyone else in the center can feel free to blast music and talk really loud. And poke their heads into your space every 5 minutes, ignoring all signs to keep quiet and not enter. The water couldn’t be turned off. Faucets were leaking and bathrooms were flooding. Of course 2 days of absolutely no water were interspersed throughout the week.

**The teachers who came with the students (1 teacher and 2 students from 5 different villages) demanded allowances for being there; allowances on top of the transport, rooming, and meals that we provided for them. One student also expected to be paid to attend the camp. 1 teacher and 1 student decided to leave the first day due to the fact that we weren’t paying them to be there, even though it was clearly stated in a letter drafted to them weeks before the camp began. When the teachers began to demand money, we met with all of them and gave it to them straight; They weren’t going to be paid to attend the camp. The camp centers around equipping teenage girls with the skills and confidence necessary to overcome the many obstacles they face growing up in a patriarchal society. If the teachers weren’t willing to stay and be involved in the empowerment of these girls, we would pay them the transport money to leave right now. But if they chose to stay, they would have to be involved and show that they care. Most chose to stay because they lived so far away, not because they recognized the need to empower young women in their village. I find it difficult to think of a time in my life when I have met a more entitled group of people. The 4 teachers that chose to stay continued to cause problems for the next 5 days.

**We had one session on condom use, and sat down with the teachers before the session to address any issues they may have with teaching abstinence, condom use, and birth control. Zambia considers itself a ‘christian nation’ and churches and schools preach abstinence only. However, when most women are becoming pregnant when they are 15 years old, clearly people are engaging in sex outside of marriage. The World Health Organization has done studies that show that when young women are taught about birth control through abstinence as well as the use of contraceptives, they are more likely to choose abstinence for themselves more often than if they are taught abstinence only. It was not the intention of Camp GLOW to morally judge these girls for choices they make when it comes to their bodies, but to make every option available to them and allow them to make their own decisions. Although the teachers agreed with our intentions prior to the session, during the session they told the girls that sex outside of marriage is sinful, that they should read certain Bible verses, and basically that they were terrible people if they didn’t abstain from sex. They even told the girls that using birth control at a young age can cause you to have problems conceiving later in life. We found ourselves openly arguing with the teachers during the session.

So what do you do when everything goes wrong? Do you freak out and throw in the towel? Not here. Or you wouldn't last very long. When you live in Zambia, you cling so strongly to the smallest things that go right until you are white in the knuckles.

First of all, our caterer was amazing. We had delicious meals prepared for us every day, and for the most part they were ready within an hour of when they were supposed to be, which in Zambia means they were on time.

Most importantly, the 9 girls that stayed for the week were unbelievable. It was great to see Zambian teenage girls be able to be teenage girls around each other. They bonded throughout the week and really opened up to and accepted one another. They were so much fun to be around, and were always smiling. We had some pretty unforgettable dance parties. There were 2 18-year old girls we had attend the camp as counselor-types. They slept in the same room as the younger girls and got to know them on a more personal level. They facilitated a session on rape and sexual abuse with the girls (sans Peace Corps volunteers and teachers) toward the end of the week. Following the session, all the girls wanted to go to VCT (voluntary counseling and testing) for HIV at the local clinic.

During the session itself, 5 out of 9 of the girls revealed that they had been raped. Some had been abused by cousins, some by complete strangers. Only one of the men had been put in jail. What these girls face on a daily basis either breaks them or makes them stronger. When over half of the girls in a group of intelligent young women who have shown to be leaders in their communities have been sexually abused, something is incredibly wrong. I wish I could keep Zambian men away from these girls for the rest of their lives. I wish their society would protect them against constant harassment from men who could never hold a candle to their strength. I wish that older women in the community supported the younger generation, and gave them hope that life doesn't have to be this way. But the most I can do is do all that I can to equip these girls, in 5 days, with the tools and skills to stand up for themselves, to realize how incredibly strong and beautiful they are. The most I can hope for is that one aspect of the camp really sunk in; that just one girl gets her boyfriend to use a condom; that just one girl feels she can report her teacher raping her to someone she trusts and not feel blamed; that just one girl fights to continue her schooling. Change is incremental. All it takes is one girl realizing the potential power she holds, and helping other women around her to do the same, for this country to change. You just have to plant the seed...

Thank you so much to all who donated money to Camp GLOW. Without your help, these 9 girls would have missed out on an opportunity to change their lives. It is impossible to be sure that they will take everything they learned back to the village with them and put it into practice. All you can do is try. Story of my life in the Peace Corps.

Happy Holidays! I wish you all a healthy and happy Christmas surrounded by those you love.

Best wishes in the new year!

Love from Zambia.

katie

home sweet home?

Lately I've been ruminating on the concept of 'home'. I owe this not in small part to my 48-hour train ride returning from Dar Es Salaam to Kasama. When my friend Amy was visiting me for the past month, I couldn't stop thinking about home. America home. Minnesota home. Family, friends, seasons, coffee, hot showers, cars, paved roads. Home. When I was visiting Maiken in Tanzania my thoughts went back to home, and that's where my heart was as well. I don't think I've ever valued my friendships and family on that side of the globe more so than in the past two years. While in Tanzania, although enjoying my travels and adventures, I wanted to be back home in the states. I felt that was where I belonged.

Yet while waiting at the train station in Dar Es Salaam (for the train that was of course 8 hours delayed leaving on the long trip back to Zambia), I heard Bemba spoken for the first time in a couple weeks. And I felt an immediate sense of comfort. Most others riding the train were Zambian, and the language I recognized on their tongue reassured me that I was going home. Zambia home. Bembaland home. Bicycles, dirt roads, Zambian family, sunshine, rain, gong show. Home.

I am a resident of Zambia. I own a mudhut in the bush. I know my way around from the bush paths to the crater-ridden paved roads. Yet my life here has evolved into much more than mere residency. Not only have I converted my hut into my own personal space I like to call home, but I walk through my village and people know my name. And finally I know theirs! Although work is still frustrating and at this point almost nonexistent, I still enjoy the company of those I try to work with. I'm happy in my village. Nkomba village. My home in Zambia. Home sweet home.

I write this all at the risk of sounding completely cheesy. ;)

From where I'm standing, America sounds so nice. But Zambia has become a part of me. Leaving this country promises to be more difficult than I anticipate. At this point in my service, with about 5 months to go (possibly fewer), I am trying to relish this home to which I will realistically not return. Although my mind still tends to wander to my home on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, my flip-flops continue to remain firmly grounded in the dirt of Zambia. I will always have these two homes, and wherever I go one will always remain in my heart regardless of where my feet may stand.

.peace&luv.

happy turkey day!!

katie

p.s. a big THANK YOU to anyone who donated to our camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) proposal. We raised the necessary funds very quickly due to your support and will be putting on the camp the second week of December 2009. Your help is appreciated more than you know.

.things i'll probably never do again.

I climbed a mountain yesterday. Today I am walking around as if there is a pole shoved up my ass. I am currently in Arusha, visiting Maiken, a friend from my St. Olaf soccer days. She is in medical school at the University of Minnesota and is taking about 6 months to work in a hospital here in Tanzania with two other friends from the U. They have a pretty nice house and are living the crazy life as well. It's been interesting to hear about their experiences at the hospital and also to commiserate with their frustrations. They actually came up with a funny way of 'explaining' how things work/don't work in Africa. Picture a control room full of buttons; buttons that control atm machines, electricity, transport, etc. Now picture this control room taken over by monkeys, who push the buttons at random, with no rhyme or reason, their arms lunging out at random buttons with no sort of order. This is the control room that runs this continent. It has been infiltrated by monkeys and they have accidentally locked themselves in. But at least they are having fun, even if it is at our expense. Since it's accepted that nothing makes sense here, I like the monkey analogy. In a crazy way it helps my mind wrap itself around all the craziness. Luckily I live in the bush and never expect to have electricity, but when I'm in kasama and the power goes out 5 times in 1 day, I can blame it on the monkey button. :)

So back to mountain climbing. Maiken, Katie (one of her med school friends), Amy, and I climbed Mount Meru, the third highest mountain in Africa behind Kilimanjaro and Mount Kenya, for 3 days. It stands at an impressive 4,566 meters as is actually taller than Mt. Rainier (the highest peak in the continental U.S.). The first two days we climbed an average of 5 hours per day, going fairly slow to acclimitize to the altitude. The third days we got out of our toasty warm sleeping bags at midnight and began the 5-hour final hike to the summit to watch the sun rise over mt. kilimanjaro. The climb was definitely more technical than I thought, and the high elevation definitely didn't make heavy breathing any easier. We climbed over rocks and shifty dirt for 5 hours with our headlamps on, barely able to make out the path ahead of us in the pitch-black darkness (the moon was just a small sliver). But it was all worth it once we reached the top. We enjoyed Snickers bars and watched the sunrise, resting for 15 minutes and taking in the breathtaking views before spending the next 9 hours completely descending the mountain. There were two camps we stayed at along the way up, complete with rooms for sleeping, a kitchen, and a dining room. We hired porters, a cook, and a guide (complete with gun to scare away any charging buffalo...yikes!). We each packed a day pack with the essentials for each daily climb (water, an extra layer of clothes, a snack, etc.). We also packed 2 larger packs for the 4 of us to share, in which we put our sleeping bags and warmer clothes (there was some snow at the top and nights got pretty chilly even for us Minnesotans). Since Maiken and Katie are doctors here, they scored us all some diamox, which we took to prevent altitude sickness. Despite a minor rolled ankle, some bouts of diarrhea, and the biting cold we all made it to the summit and back down. There were two dutch men who were also climbing the mountain when we were, and one of them struggled a lot with altitude sickness at the top. Thank god for our traveling pharmacy. :) Although I'm sure I will be sore for the next week, I am really glad that I climbed Mount Meru. It was challenging and rigorous, at times incredibly dangerous, but so much fun with our group of 4. We sang disney songs to keep our spirits up, played cards at the camps, and spent more time laughing than gasping for air. Although I don't see myself taking up mountain-climbing as a hobby any time in the near future, I will never forget climbing a mountain in Africa in the middle of the night only to witness a spectacular sunrise with friends. Unforgettable.

Another thing I plan to never do again is bunji-jump. One of the first things Amy and I did once she arrived in Zambia was jump right on a bus to Livingstone with 3 of my closest peace corps friends. We decided on the adventure package, meaning we decided to absolutely terrify ourselves for the next 2 days. As much adrenaline rush as is humanly possible in 48 hours.

The first day our plan was to white-water raft on the Zambezi, followed by a booze cruise at sunset. Rafting was definitely way more intense than when I went in July, even though our boat didn't tip. There was one rapid that was so intense we had to get out of the raft and walk around the rapid on the rocks while our raft braved it alone, only to catch it and jump right back in afterward. After the final rapid, we were told to jump out of the boat and swim to shore to cool ourselves off before the long hike back up the gorge. While we were fighting the rushing current, my friend Claire yelled out that there was a snake right next to me on the rock. Always the calm one in crisis situations, I screamed out 'SNAKE!' and swam for my life. You know it's bad when Zambians are also freaking out a bit. It was a python that was probably just as terrified of us as we were of it. But we don't have the power to kill it with a single bite. So there. We made it safely to the shore, climbed up the gorge, and rested a little before boarding the weirdest boat cruise of my life.

The boat was overcrowed, but we managed to get on early and snag a table on the top deck. Then along came a group of about 20 older dutch people, who stole one of our seats (we thought they were joking at first) and wouldn't give it back. My view on the dutch is a bit tainted after that boat cruise. A girl and her mother were performing a model photo shoot on the back deck. Enough said. That's just weird. A random man came up to our table and shoved his camera in our faces, displaying a photo of his private area that made me nauseas. A random Aussie joined our table mid-cruise just for the fun of it. I have yet to meet an Australian I don't like. The drinks were flowing and a great time was had by all of course. But it was arguably the most confusing and strange 3 hours of my life.

Our second day in Livingstone we saw Victoria Falls (without much water flowing over it due to the dry season) as well as did a zipline, gorge swing, and bunji jumping over the Zambezi. While the first two were 'fun' while also managing to scare the crap out of me, I never plan to bunji-jump again. It literally froze me with fear. (My hands were frozen in a claw/death grip for at least 15 minutes after jumping. The whole operation was a bit janky, with mere towels wrapped around the ankles and then a swift push off the bridge. Once I was bouncing back up I was too terrified even to scream. Something was crazy with the rope and I was spinning and spinning, unable to orient myself or tell up from down. And I was still danging pretty far above rushing rapids. When a man tied to a rope descended to retrieve me and then pull me back up to the bridge, grabbed onto his legs for dear life and came just short of kissing him once we got back up to the bridge. I felt nauseas for a couple hours after the jump from all the spinning. I am glad that I did it, but it was a pretty intensely miserable experience. Of course I bought the dvd and picture cd to document it all. :) I am going to try to upload the video to this blog sometime today if anyone has any interest in watching me at my weakest moments, but don't be surprised if the power goes out or a monkey button is pushed that prevents the uploading.

Jumping off bridges and climbing mountains; two things that are crazy, and that I will probably never do again. Much like living in a mudhut in the bush of Africa. Once is more than enough. ;)

.luv from tanzania.

katie

when you are engulfed in flames...

Good afternoon from another sweaty, sticky, sky-wanting-to-rain-so-bad-but-can't-commit day in northern Zambia. My friend Amy and I just arrived back in Kasama today and will be getting on the train to Dar Es Salaam around 2am Saturday. I'll write more about our travels/adventures later but wanted to write a quick post about a weekend trip I made in September with about 20 other volunteers to 'The Wonder Gorge', commonly referred to around these parts as the 'Grand Canyon of Zambia'. We rented a canter truck (basically a big truck with a huge bed used for transporting goods...and people) to drive us 8 hours into the bush. Our plan was to camp for 2 nights at the gorge, and hike into the gorge itself down to the river below to cool off in the thick of hot season. I can safely say this trip turned out to be arguably the biggest shit show I have experienced in this country. And that's says a LOT.

After 8 hours in the back of a truck in the hot sun we rolled into the top of the gorge in the evening. We should have taken it as a bad omen when we were literally driving through fires and smoke. If I haven't mentioned this before, Zambians light their country on fire during the hot season. If the fires aren't stopped they tend to just keep spreading with the wind. We spent literally our entire first night at the gorge fighting these fires which had drifted out of control. There were fires encroaching on our camping spot on the tip of the cliff overlooking the gorge, as the canter truck dropped us off and promised to come back 'on time' in a couple days.

First we tried to make a fire break around our campsite. Although I can proudly claim making it to Junior Girl Scouts in middle school (i'm brushing off my shoulder), my nature 'expertise' doesn't extend to fighting fires. I mostly stuck to knitting and selling cookies. Much more difficult. ;) Luckily the guys in our group became all gung-hoe (sp? is that even a word?) and it was contagious for almost the entire group. We found big leafy sticks and started chasing the fires and hacking them out. Night had fallen and we were a crazy sight in the glow of the flames, sweaty and frantic yet still laughing, mostly at the fact that yes, this was actually happening. We managed to control the fires long enough for us to enjoy some dinner. But before passing out from utter exhaustion we formed groups of 2-3 people who were responsible for 'fire watch' during a 2-hour chunk of the night. Each group, when finished with their shift, would wake up the next group, and so on and so forth until dawn. The flames would calm down during the day, but as the wind shifted during dusk we would once again go into survival mode.

Speaking of survival, I had never before been in a situation that allowed me to witness so many peoples' (and my own) varying ways of handling crisis situations. Some became panicked and needed to pace and talk themselves through it. Others were all about coming up with a plan and organizing the troops. Still others connected their ipods to speakers and played music. Even others just sat and stared...before deciding they needed to cook something. Thank god for the latter groups we fought Zambian bush fires while listening to tunes from America, and had yummy food to eat afterward. There was a point where people actually started setting the bush afire to create a fire break with a smaller circumference around our tents. At one point this self-formed fire got a bit too close to my tent. My friend Joan immediately realized this and sprinted toward my tent, grabbing it out of the fast-approaching flames before they could begin to melt the exterior. However, in her quick movement of the tent one of the poles snapped. Thank god for REI. I already have new poles on the way free of charge! Shout out to them. :)

The theme of our wonder gorge trip was Murphey's Law. Whatever could have gone wrong, went horribly wrong. After a night of interrupted sleep to watch the fire patterns across the hills, we decided to hike down into the gorge. What should have taken approximately 2 hours took at least 4...for those who made it. The wonder gorge is no grand canyon because rarely does anyone go there. There are no trails to the bottom of the gorge. And you are scooting on your booty on a steep incline for most of the trip down, yelling out for the sake of those below you when you accidentally break a rock loose that goes tumbling down...down...down...The whole idea was incredibly dangerous and in hindsight we should probably have been using climbing gear and a balet system. Out of all times in my Zambian life, my stomach decided to have a parasitic attack while I was scaling down the side of the cliff. Instead of calling out to warn of falling rocks, I was calling out "don't look up! i have diarrhea!". I would find the nearest tree and cling on for dear life while my stomach rid itself of something nasty. I won't go into detail. Needless to say I was forced to end my trek down into the gorge, turn around, and begin an equally taxing trek back up the cliff, stopping along the way to relieve myself. It was disgusting. I was disgusted by myself. I made it back up to the top eventually, joining with a few others who had either decided immediately that the hike down was too dangerous and not worth it (they were the smart ones) and others who, like me, had made it part of the way and decided to turn around. Of course it was the thick of hot season so we hung our african fabrics and tent rainfly's in the branches of leafless trees to create some sort of shade. I spent the remainder of the day either running into the bush or laying in the fetile position in the shade. It was one of those days where I wonder what the hell I am doing here. Some pepto helped a bit, and luckily I was ok for the long canter truck ride back to 'civilization' the next day.

To compound the effects of the oppressing heat, we almost ran out of water. The Canter truck promised to pick us up around 8am in the morning after 2 nights in wonder gorge hell, but instead didn't show up until about 4pm. Luckily we had 2 bikes with us and two brave souls biked 15km to the nearest village to fill two jerry cans with water and bike them back to us. By our third day, we could barely move because of the heat, we had just drops of water left, and we were using choice words regarding the drivers of the truck who had dropped us in the middle of nowhere and were 8 hours late in coming back to retrieve us. Oh, and did I mention that someone left honey out overnight and bees were swarming everywhere? gong. show.

I am proud to say we all managed to survive our wonder gorge camping trip. But the beauty of the gorge did not equal the misery of the weekend. The best thing we took away from that trip were the stories of misery and survival. Being a peace corps volunteer in Zambia teaches you two important lessons: 1) that nothing will ever work out as its supposed to, and 2) do whatever you need to do to deal with it. Oh, and that past a certain point, things can only get better... at the very least you will always have a good story. :)

That's all I have for now. It has finally started raining! The temperature has dropped at least 10 degrees. It's my last rainy season in Zambia. Actually, it's the last change of season I'll experience here. It will probably still be raining when I fly back stateside in the spring.

Hope all is well in Americaland!

.peace&hair grease.

katie

might be a quarter-life crisis. or just a stirring in my soul.

Sorry Sorry! That's Bemba for I apologize profusely for not making a blog post since July. Turns out life here happens and gets in the way of keeping to any type of schedule or plan. ZAMBIA happens. There are power outtages in Mpika, internet network is down for a week or so, yours truly runs out of kwacha for internet use...I should stop making promises to update regularly. Suffice it to say I shall update my blog 'if the will of god insists'. Now I've truly become Zambian. :)





I'm not sure if I can fit the past 2 months of my life in one post, but at the risk of sounded long-winded I'll give it a try. My family visited for two weeks in August! We had an amazing time traveling around together and I feel so incredibly lucky that they were willing and able to embark on the gong show that is a trip to sub-saharan Africa. Zambia isn't considered the most popular of tourist destinations when it comes to relaxing, care-free travel. But the fam proved to be troopers and for most of the trip everyone was a happy camper. Literally. For the two weeks in between hug attacks in Livingstone and some tears at the Lusaka airport, we swung over gorges, slept amongst leopards and hippos (actually incredibly terrifying...armed guards circle your tent all night), traveled at night over crater-filled roads, danced in the middle of 100 villagers, drank locally brewed beer (and many a mosi lager!), soaked in hotsprings under the starry african night sky, and so much more. My family left Zambia with 3 added layers of dirt. But at least it looked like a tan. :) It was really difficult seeing them off at the airport but their visit oddly re-energized me for my final 6 months of life here. The quote of the trip came from my mom. We were sitting under my insaka on the day of the big village party. My father was in shorts with a bandana wrapped around his receding hairline (sorry dad!). My mother turned to him completely nonchalantly and stated, "Len, put your pants on and take your headdress off. The party is about to start." :)





The week following my family's visit I stayed in Lusaka to help out with training the newest group of volunteers as a Resource Volunteer. Ideally this would entail facilitating sessions every day and being busy in general...but this is Peace Corps. In Africa. Which translates to consistent schedule changes and no one really knowing what's going on at any given moment. It was nice to get to know the new volunteers, though, and I had a chance to camp over night at my homestay family's compound from when I was in training. It was crazy to see how my little host brothers grew in a year and a half, as well as carol, who was about a year old when I arrived in Zambia. They had one new addition to the family, Naomi, and I really enjoyed hanging out with them. Crazy how fast time flies!





In September I attended Ukusefya Pa Ngwena, the Bemba cultural festival that takes place annually in Kasama. We hitched a ride out to the festival in the Maximum condom truck. You know it's gonnna be a good day when that's how it begins. :) Past presidents, most notably Kenneth Kaunda, were in attendance, as well as the current vice president. I went to the festival last year and expected it to be a lot of the same types of tribal dances. However, due to the number of politicians a big chunk of the festival was speeches. In English. A language which most Zambians living out in the bush don't understand. There was some dancing in the morning, the highlight being a lady riding around in circles on a bicycle with a jug of water on her head, drinking from it with a big spoon while cycling. We tried really hard to score some free t-shirts, which we finagled(sp?) a few days later in town. But we left in the early afternoon heat to hitch-hike back to Kasama.





My treck back to the village began with a Tanzanian truck driver attempting to kidnap me and steal the birthday package from America I had just picked up at the post office in Mpika. We never discussed a price when I got into the cab of the truck, and I often get free rides to my turn-off because semi-trucks are so incredibly slow. However, this guy refused to let me out of the truck until I paid him, and as he kept driving past my junction he took my America package and threw it in the corner of the windshield. This guy should have known better than to mess with this girl on transport days. I went off on him. I was speaking really fast and using many 'french' words. But I think he got the point. I gave him some money to make him stop the truck so I could get out, but I wasn't about to go down without a fight. He's lucky I didn't smack him upside the head with my bday package. But I knew there was a chance there could be special fragile candies in there you can't find anywhere on this continent. And he was not worth the risk.



Life in the village as of late has been just ok. I've been trying to work with my agricultural officer in hopes of meeting some farmers groups and possibly doing some composting and permagarden workshops. I've also met with the headteacher at the basic school and we are hoping to put together an IGA (income-generating activity) workshop with the P.T.A. Much like the Rural Health Center, the school doesn't receive adequate funding from the government so they need to organize activities in the community to help them raise money for basic materials like chalk and paper. Right now they work a maize field but I am trying to link them with the local agricultural officer to possibly start up a chicken coup. Yet I think I reached the pinnacle of my frustrations with development work in the village a few weeks ago. I was meeting with some farmers in another village not too far from mine. I was helping them with an action plan, and they were coming up with the resources needed for activities they were planning. With each resource they had to also write where it was coming from. They had one column for internal resources, those that are contributed by the community, and one column for external resources such as coming from Mpika. Instead they kept turning to me and saying "you will give us this, and you will give us that". You would think that after a year and a half living in the village, not handing out money or resources but instead trying to link people to them, that I would not be seen as a walking dollar sign anymore. Sadly that's not the case, and I'm beginning to think that I never should have expected that mentality to change. By doing so I was setting myself up for frustration. What disappoints me the most is when the same people I have been working with for so long continually expect me to just give them things, as if my hut is a bank, money grows on my mango trees, and I'm hoarding valuable resources under my bed. What gets me through the times when I want to throw in the towel and head home is dinner with my neighbors when we end up singing and dancing; the simple beauty of mud-hut living; and coming to the point where I cycle through my village and everyone knows my name and greets me a smile. I've fallen in love with Zambia. But I've lost a lot of my passion for development projects at the rural level. If a well-educated Zambian isn't willing to live in the bush for two years and work with the rural clinic to educate people on basic healthcare, then what am I doing? This country will only develop when those who are fortunate enough to have received a good education realize that Lusaka Zambia and rural Zambia are two separate countries. Foreign aid is useless unless the citizens of a country are willing to help eachother out. My main counterpart, the clinic In-Charge/Midwife is amazing. He is one of the most active members of the community, is well-trusted, well-educated, and works really hard to make small changes at the very rural level. My personal belief is that Zambia could use less american peace corps volunteers and more people like him.



Right now it looks like I'll be returning to the states in April/May. I believe my 'close of service' date is April 21st, but that can always change. I would love to do a little bit of traveling before flying home but will cross that bridge when I get to it. If I do travel it probably won't be for very long. I'd like to make it up to Rwanda and Uganda, but if I don't that's ok too. Where I really want to be right now is back in America. :) I am anxious to get back and try to figure out my life. But I'm too stubborn to leave Zambia early, I know it would be difficult to get a job right now stateside, and through all the ups and downs I'm still happy over here. I'm not quite ready to leave just yet.

A few weeks ago I was biking out of my village when I noticed a man about 50 meters ahead of me on the path look up into a big tree on the side of the path and immediately start running. I could see some object moving up in the tree, too large to be a bird but definitely not an animal...once I reached the tree I looked up and saw something I'll never forget. A man had braced himself up in the tree. He was wearing a cape and a string bikini/loin cloth. He was picking fruits from the tree, pounding them on the trunk, and staring right at me. Keep in mind that it was around 5:30/6 in the morning. I greeted him in bemba while preparing myself to haul ass if he jumped down. I had my headphones in and was listening to music, but I'm pretty sure his response was 'mpeleniko 3pin' (give me 3,000 kwacha). I thought he might decide to begin target practice with the fruits so I took off and never looked back at crazy. But I continued to laugh about this incident for another 2 hours and the rest of my day on transport. How can I leave this country early and miss out on random events like this one that make me feel like I'm in the twilight zone? :)

So it's the thick of hot season here. And believe me sub-saharan africa doesn't mess around in the hot season. It is HOT. I tend to rise and shine a good 2 hours earlier than during the rest of the year. It's pretty scorching by 7/8, so I try to get up around 5:30/6 to run.

Some random noteables:

I think my dog is knocked up. For real this time. She was in heat last month and a steady stream of male suitors came to my compound to try and get with her. It was extremely intriguing, but also pretty gross. Needless to say, according to science, she has got to be pregnant by now.

Also, I was lucky to celebrate my 25th birthday with friends in Kasama. We made delicious pizza. But before eating it, we sent someone outside with it, called them, and had them deliver it. It was nice because we had coupons. :) The next night about 8 of us camped at the hotsprings. It was luvly. :)

Amy Odland, one of my friends from college, is flying in TODAY to visit me for a month! I spent the weekend in Lusaka with my 3 best friends in the country, and we are all headed to Livingstone today for bunjee jumping, rafting, gorge swings, ziplines, booze cruises...as much fun as we can pack into two days down there. Then it's a couple weeks of traveling around Zambia with Amy and up to Tanzania in November to meet up with another friend from college, climb Mt. Meru and return to the paradise of Zanzibar for a few days. :) aaahhhh.... life here is rough. wink!

I hope life in Americaland is good. Yay for Obama and peace. :) All my luv from the land of Zam!

katie

Surf & Sand in Namibia

Good morning from Lusaka! I am down here in the city of dreams to say goodbye to Becky, one of my best friends here, who has decided to end her service early and will be flying back to the states for good on Friday :( I don't know if I would have made it through my first few months in Zambia without her. She is also a Minnesota soccer girl so we were pretty much instant friends from the beginning, and I am really sad to see her go. But I know she's happy with her decision and really relieved to be going back to a country where life just seems a bit easier at this point...



I , however, am still enjoying living here despite the constant craziness, ups and downs, stomach 'issues' (that's what we'll call them), weird infections, and 3-hour bike rides under the hot African sun. As I watch the sun go down while cooking dinner over hot coals every night and smell the sweet smoke from small fires burning throughout the village I realize that this place is going to be incredibly difficult to leave. I know that I'll be ready to return home to the states in April, but my village in Zambia has become a second home that will be hard to say goodbye to. I definitely anticipate experiencing a bit of homesickness for Chitumbi village following my peace corps service.



So my most recent adventure was to Namibia over Independence Day. It began with a 24-hour bus ride to Windhoek, the capital city, where the weather was at least 20 degrees cooler than in Zambia. I traveled with Becky and Jules, 2 other volunteers who live in Luapula Province, and immediately upon arrival we had to go shopping for warmer clothes. Lucky for us, Windhoek could easily be mistaken for a European city with its beautiful architecture as well as its amenities and offerings. The more I travel, the more I realize that I live in the 'ghetto' of Southern Africa...and by that I mean the country that has probably experienced the least amount of developmental changes and improvements since their independence. The roads are terrible, solid infrastructure is almost nonexistent, and corruption runs rampant. But the truth remains that it has been my home for the past year and a half and I still feel a sense of comfort and relief when returning back to Zambia. At least here I expect every day to be a gong show, and if it isn't I find myself surprised if not a bit confused. My standards have been thrown out the window in almost every facet of life, and I am happy to say I will return to the states one of the most easily pleased persons in the world. As I've mentioned before, Zambians are beautiful people with so much strength both physically and spiritually...and that rare beauty is one of the only consistencies I have come to rely on every day that I wake up in Zambia.



So back to Namibia...we froze our butts off for 2 days in Windhoek before heading to Swakopmund, a small coastal town closely resembling the gulf coast of Florida. We stayed at a lodge for a few days, went running in the mornings on the beach, enjoyed cute little coffee shops with delicious breakfasts, rode ATVs through the desert dunes and even tried our hand at sandboarding. We rented a 4x4 truck for 6 days, fully-equipped with a tent on top and all the camping equipment we could ever wish for. They should post peace corps volunteers with one of these trucks! We camped on the beach a few nights and also drove to Sussusvlei, where watching the sun rise over the highest dunes in Namibia is known throughout the world as a life-changing experience. We camped right outside the national park and woke at 4:30 a.m. to drive to one of the highest dunes, hike to the top, and sit overlooking the desert to watch the sun rise. The bold contrasting colors of the sand and sky are themselves indescribable, and it is an experience I could never forget.

Yet my favorite part of the trip was camping right along the beach. We found ourselves on the 4th of July looking out over the atlantic ocean, watching dolphins swimming and jumping right off the coast, sipping on wine around a campfire in the sand while the sun set. What better way to celebrate freedom? :)

We stopped in Livingstone en route to Lusaka on our return back up north, spending a day rafting on the Zambezi followed by a sunset booze cruise. Rafting was pretty hardcore, beginning with a long steep hike down the gorge. Becky, myself, and one other man were the only Americans, and thus the only ones in our group of about 50 people to jump into the icy cold rapids multiple times. There was one time when our guide told us we could jump in and 'float' feet forward down a particular rapid. Of course I jumped right in, immediately regretting that decision. The water was icy, I could barely breathe because the waves kept splashing over me, and I got caught on the wrong side of the river in a whirlpool spinning around to what I thought might just be my death...until from out of nowhere my guide appeared like an angel and pulled me back into the raft. Needless to say, after about 4 hours of paddling through rapids I was looking forward to an ice cold beer (or 2) while watching the african sunset from a slow-moving boat cruise. We ended up seeing an entire herd of elephants drinking water on the bank of the river, giraffes, and hippos during the 3-hour cruise. Once I returned to my site I had some of the most amazing nights of sleep I've had in awhile. I had a great time on my trip, as always when traveling through southern Africa, but it always puts a smile on my face to finally cycle into my village after being away, arriving home again. :)

Upon my return to Zambia I learned that I would be hosting new volunteers at my site for 3 nights. The newest intake of volunteers (new volunteers come every 6 months) arrived in my village the evening of July 26th and returned to Lusaka to begin training on July 29th. The first visit to a volunteer's site is a way for the newbies to see what life in the village is all about before they begin training. They can defecate in a hole, help draw water, take a bucket bath, and cook over a fire. I recently built a fire pit in my yard so for two nights we sat around a blazing fire and talked into the night. They had so many questions, as I did when i first arrived, and it was a bit overwhelming with 6 of them but my friend Claire traveled up to my site to help out with hosting. We showed them how to cook delicious meals while lacking a variety of foods, how to greet people in Bemba, and even went in search of elephants one day. We never saw the elephants, but did manage to see their destructive path through a neighboring village as well as the big loads of elephant poop they left behind. I also took them to my rural clinic one morning, where my counterpart, Mr. Chikwaba, spoke with them about the challenges faced by the clinic as well as the successes they have experienced.

We spent the third night of their visit camping at the hotsprings about 60km from my site. During the cold season in mountainous Northern Zambia, there is nothing like soaking in a natural jacuzzi at night while gazing up at the stars through the palm trees. I had a great time talking with them about what's new in the states, what they are excited and nervous about in Zambia, and just getting to know each of them. The funniest thing was how clean they were. Their bags were still spotless, and I still noticed them washing their hands every 5 minutes. After being here for a year and a half, I manage to wash my hands very sporadically, usually in my dirty dish water that I'll use consistently for an average of 3 days before tossing out... wait a second, am I really a health volunteer? :) It was so nice to have visitors to my site, as I am so far out that it very rarely happens. It makes me even more excited for my family to come in less than 2 weeks!! I am meeting them in Livingstone on August 10th and the 2 weeks they will spend in Zambia promise to be both crazy and amazing. I can't wait for them to experience the daily gong show of my life here...hard to believe I haven't seem them in a year and a half. Time flies when you're having fun...I'll be finishing up my service in less than 8 months.

I hope everyone had a good 4th of July back stateside. It was hard to miss out on fireworks and parades...and as I sat on the beach in Namibia I thought of all the fun summertime celebrations going on along another coast of the atlantic. I am still loving life here, although it can be a nightmare at times. I miss my family, I miss my friends, and I miss the familiarity of my culture. I also miss ordering pizza, taking hot showers, and drinking good coffee...but I'm pretty sure I can stick it out until springtime. I know when I get back I'll miss carrying my water and squatting over a hole...oh wait... ;)

.peace&luv.

katie